The Underground Railroad eBook

Such was William’s story. He was twenty-three
years of age, of a light brown color, well-made.
Judging from his expressions and apparent feelings
against his master and mistress, he would be willing
to endure many years of suffering in Canada snows,
before he would apply to them for care and protection.

* * * *
*

A SLAVE CATCHER CAUGHT IN HIS OWN TRAP.

GEORGE F. ALBERTI PERSONATED BY A MEMBER OF THE VIGILANCE COMMITTEE—­A
LADY FRIGHTENED BY A PLACARD.

One afternoon, the quiet of the Anti-Slavery Office
was suddenly agitated by the contents of a letter,
privately placed in the hands of J. Miller McKim by
one of the clerks of the Philadelphia Ledger office.
Said letter it would seem, had been dropped into the
box of the Ledger office, instead of the U.S. box
(one of which, was also in the Ledger office), through
a mistake, and seeing that it bore the name of a well-known
slave-catcher, Alberti, the clerk had a great desire
to know its import. Whether it was or was not
sealed, the writer cannot say, it certainly was not
sealed when it reached the Anti-Slavery office.
It stated that a lady from Maryland was then in Philadelphia,
stopping at a boarding-house on Arch Street, and that
she was very desirous of seeing the above-mentioned
Alberti, with a view of obtaining his services to
help catch an Underground Rail Road sojourner, whom
she claimed as her property. That she wrote the
letter could not be proved, but that it was sent by
her consent, there was no doubt. In order to save
the poor fellow from his impending doom, it seemed
that nothing would avail but a bold strategical movement.
Mr. McKim proposed to find some one who would be willing
to answer for Alberti. Cyrus Whitson, a member
of the Committee, in Mr. McKim’s judgment, could
manage the matter successfully. At that time,
C. Whitson was engaged in the Free Labor store, at
the corner of Fifth and Cherry streets, near the Anti-Slavery
office. On being sent for, he immediately answered
the summons, and Mr. McKim at once made known to him
his plan, which was to save a fellow-man from being
dragged back to bondage, by visiting the lady, and
ascertaining from her in conversation the whereabouts
of the fugitives, the names of the witnesses, and
all the particulars. Nothing could have delighted
the shrewd Whitson better; he saw just how he could
effect the matter, without the slightest probable
failure. So off he started for the boarding-house.

Arriving, he rang the bell, and when the servant appeared,
he asked if Miss Wilson, from Maryland, was stopping
there. “She is,” was the answer.
“I wish to see her.” “Walk in
the parlor, sir.” In went Mr. W., with
his big whiskers. Soon Miss Wilson entered the
parlor, a tall, and rather fine-looking well dressed
lady. Mr. Whitson bowing, politely addressed
her, substantially thus: